Part 7 As they came back from that day’s climb—it was up the Mittaghorn—they had to cross a shining space of wet, steep rocks between two grass slopes that needed a little care. He saw her, dripping with rosy pearls, rise out of the lagoon in the dawn light: he saw her flashing to and fro among the coco palms in the moonshine: he saw her breasting the hurricane, her body as full of grace and beauty as the Winged Victory of the Louvre. Hanging about! And they start thinking and asking questions, and begin to be neither one thing nor the other. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. ‘Aye, that she was. ’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. "Mac, you old son-of-a-gun!" "Got a man's breakfast?" McClintock demanded to know.
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